


remember when

by ntkrrs



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Backstory, F/M, Foreign Language, Guns, Language, Shooting Guns, Shooting Range
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:07:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28332105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ntkrrs/pseuds/ntkrrs
Summary: In his time with them, Edward Elric pieces together the shared past between the Colonel and the Lieutenant.
Relationships: Edward Elric & Jean Havoc, Edward Elric & Riza Hawkeye, Jean Havoc & Riza Hawkeye, Riza Hawkeye & Roy Mustang, Riza Hawkeye/Roy Mustang
Comments: 21
Kudos: 92





	1. a shared language

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> initially inspired by [this genius fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27122041) by TheDarkAgent, and propelled forward by [chewy](https://chewytran.tumblr.com/post/619599629722501120/the-colonel-and-his-lieutenant-they-seem-close).
> 
> endless thanks to [priscilla](https://archiveofourown.org/users/priscilladm/pseuds/priscilladm) for her notes. they have made this chapter infinitely better.

It’s been a few months being under Mustang’s _supervision_ (Ed hated calling it that). He’d gotten along with Mustang’s Team quite nicely, despite almost all of them being significantly older than him, but they were nice and made him feel welcome. All of them had a bond and they hadn’t made him feel excluded, which he appreciated. They were all great, and maintained great friendships, in and out of work.

However, the obvious closeness between the Colonel and Lieutenant Hawkeye was somewhat… concerning.

It was impossible to miss. Their shared murmurs, how they seemed to share entire conversations in one look. He’d heard the gossip in the mess hall—how Mustang’s such a huge womanizer, he probably had the Lieutenant wrapped up, too. But Ed liked to think that he knew the Lieutenant, being in close range of her, and these people didn’t. They were all fueled by speculation.

Nothing Riza Hawkeye did even _hinted_ at unprofessionalism, and while Mustang was an idiot, Ed would (begrudgingly) admit that he wasn’t _that_ big of an idiot.

He wasn’t one to pry or stick his nose into people’s personal matters, especially not in a professional setting. He was a little shit, sure, but he wasn’t about to be an asshole about it. Still, he was curious. Concerned, of course, but mostly curious.

Ed would always think it whenever he ended up in Mustang’s office, how Hawkeye would always be close behind the man, never sitting, always standing. It didn’t strike the young alchemist as odd, when he first saw it, because he thought that, y’know, maybe it’s a military thing. He wasn’t one to question. But when he noticed that she was the _only_ one who did it, well…

But he supposed that in the grand scheme of things, it wasn’t important. So he decided he’d simply speculate, just like everyone else, then let it go. Wasn’t his business anyway.

“Fullmetal, are you listening?”

Ed’s face soured. “No.”

Mustang smirked. “Well, then, let me repeat myself.”

“Of course,” the young alchemist muttered. “Wouldn’t want to rob you of the opportunity of hearing yourself talk.”

The Colonel’s smirk widened and he continued on with the briefing. Something about a suspicious gang of alchemists, something something South, something something only military personnel, something something recon, something something Havoc, something something inn, something something room with Hawkeye—

“Wait, what?” Ed blinked. “Why am I rooming with the Lieutenant? Why not Al?”

“I _just_ said ‘only military personnel,’” Mustang huffed.

Oh, okay, that made sense. “Sorry, Al,” Ed sighed, “I gotta be leashed for the day.”

Al’s armor squeaked as he nodded. “ _Kuya_ , I figured that out the first time the Colonel said it.” 

Ed scowled at his brother. _Traitor_.

“ _Thank you_ for listening, Alphonse,” Mustang said, sickly sweet, and Ed wanted to transmute part of the couch into a clay ball and hurtle it at the man’s head.

“Wait, so why am I rooming with Hawkeye and not you?”

“Do you want to board with me?”

“ _No_ ,” Ed spat. 

“Then that settles it.” Mustang leaned back. “We’ll take the train at 1000 to Kadayr. We’ll get to Weom by nightfall.”

* * *

Ed had been poring over books that could have a lead on the Philosopher’s Stone with his brother until dawn, so he caught up on sleep while on the train from East City to Kadayr. Briefly pausing in his slumber, he hobbled over to the train heading to Awbeziz, then knocked out again. 

When they made it to Awbeziz, it was sunset, and Ed forced himself awake lest he become nocturnal.

Havoc, the only other person with them, shuffled out of the train and rubbed his butt. “Man, how do you sleep in those things? They’re so uncomfortable.”

“Used to it, I guess,” Ed shrugged. “Where’s everyone else?”

“Had to stay back,” Havoc said, placing an unlit cigarette in his mouth and patting his pockets for a lighter. “Chief doesn’t like leaving things unattended.”

They rented a carriage that Hawkeye drove, bringing them to Weom in an hour’s time. The four of them entered the local—and only—inn by 2100. 

“Colonel, _please_ ,” Havoc begged pathetically, frantically pointing at the limp cigarette in his mouth when they walked through the door. “I don’t have a lighter! _Please_.”

“Ask me again I’ll burn your eyeballs off,” Mustang threatened.

“Does that mean you’ll light the cigarette, too?”

“You— _Fine_ ,” the older alchemist snapped. He _tsk_ ’ed and handed Hawkeye an envelope. “Here. You handle checking us in.”

“Don’t kill him, sir,” Hawkeye said blankly. Mustang grumbled something about dismembering and walked out, angrily gesturing at Havoc to follow him out the door.

Ed reached over to ring the bell for the Lieutenant. “I don’t know how you do it,” he told her. “Dealing with them.”

Lieutenant Hawkeye smiled at him. “You get used to dealing with it, when you’ve been surrounded by men all your life.”

“Brothers?” he assumed. 

“Something like that.”

“ _¡Lo siento lo siento!_ ” The innkeeper burst from the back room, a stout, blonde lady who radiated warmth. She smiled brightly at them. “ _¡Hola! ¿Cómo estás? Te gustaria una habitacion?_ ”

Ed blinked, flustered. The tongue was evidently Surian, a southern dialect close to Aerugan, but he didn’t speak it. “Um, I—”

“ _Sí por favor_ ,” Hawkeye responded flawlessly. “ _Necesitamos dos habitaciones. ¿Eso está disponible?_ ”

“ _Sí, sí, por supuesto_ ,” the lady said, fussing with something behind the desk.

Edward watched, his golden eyes going back and forth between the lady and the Lieutenant, the senior officer casually conversing in a dialect of which he caught a few words. Growing up in Resembool exposed him to similar conversations, but as he left pretty young, he only gleaned bits and pieces, understanding very little.

Mustang chose that moment to walk back in, an evidently less stressed Havoc in tow. “Everything alright, Lieutenant?”

“Yes,” she answered.

“ _Tu esposo_?” the lady asked, face filled with happy intrigue, handing the Lieutenant the keys.

Mustang looked taken aback, visibly unprepared. Ed smirked at the show of vulnerability, ready to rub in how _shocked_ the man looked, but his jaw unhinged when the Colonel replied in the innkeeper’s dialect. “Ah, _no, señora. Ella es mi_ … uh…” He turned to Hawkeye. “ _Cómo se dice_ ‘adjutant’?”

“ _Ayudante_ ,” Hawkeye supplied.

The lady clapped her hands in understanding, a little apologetic. “Ah, _perdona mi ignorancia. Como una colega_?”

Mustang nodded. “ _Sí_.”

Ed sidled up to Havoc as the three continued to converse in a language unknown to him. “Is this… What’s happening?”

“Oh, you didn’t know? The Lieutenant’s a South girl,” Havoc explained. “She grew up here, in one of the towns. ‘S why she can speak Surian. ”

The blond alchemist nodded slowly. “Huh.”

“Come on, Havoc,” Mustang ordered, sweeping his coat as he turned. “Let’s get settled in.”

“You got it, chief,” Havoc nodded, collecting his and Mustang’s sparse luggage. Ed followed when Hawkeye encouraged similarly, knocking out as soon as he made it to the bed. He was too tired to realize Havoc didn’t mention anything about Mustang speaking Surian.

* * *

“Good morning, Fullmetal,” Mustang greeted from in between Hawkeye and Havoc as soon as Ed trudged to the lobby.

“It’s two in the morning,” he griped. He blinked at them, finding something odd. It struck him that none of them were wearing their uniforms. 

“Best to strike when the enemy is unaware,” Mustang said brightly, and Ed wanted to say, _yeah, you’re right_ , and hurl the cup of piping hot coffee Havoc just handed him at the back of the Colonel’s head. He smiled evilly at the imagery.

“We’re just collecting intel,” Havoc said, the black he wore making the shadows on his face worse. He must’ve been roused from his slumber at a terrible time, too. “We have a lead on the eastern outskirts of Weom. Nothing too hard.”

“I’d rather be in a fight,” Ed mumbled, ignoring the way the coffee burned when he took a sip. “I don’t even know why I’m here, anyway.”

“You really don’t listen to briefings, do you?” Havoc scratched his cheek as they walked to the car. “This is my mission, but the Colonel said to bring you along.”

“Why?”

“Said you could take the opportunity to learn something about subtlety.”

Ed’s hand twitched around his coffee cup, but he took a deep breath and stamped down the raging urge. Hawkeye was in white, after all, and he didn’t want to inconvenience her, in case the coffee splashed on her en route to the Colonel’s head.

* * *

“Lieutenant Hawkeye?”

“Mm?” she responded, pausing in drying her hair. 

Ed settled on his bed, cross-legged, the mid-afternoon sun shining into their generous window. They were preparing for bed early, arriving at around dawn and deciding to repeat the inspection process the next morning. “I didn’t know you spoke Surian.”

She smiled, pushing her hair back. “I grew up in a town here. Tobha; it’s close to the East Area border. You know it?”

There was the slightest bit of recognition, but none too significant, so Ed shook his head. 

“I don’t think so, no,” he admitted. “Even though I grew up in Resembool, which is close to the South Area border, the only place I’d ever heard of nearby was Yuflam. Granny Pinako has some automail clients from there, so Winry’s more well-versed in Surian.”

“Yuflam is a little closer to Tobha, but much bigger. You actually pass by Tobha, first, before Yuflam, if you travel from Meox. We passed it on the way here.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” Hawkeye continued to towel off her damp hair. “You speak Isleño, correct? Alphonse calls you… _kuya_. Am I saying that correctly?”

“Yeah,” Ed affirmed. “ _Kuya_ means ‘big brother’ in Isleño. But as a whole it’s only spoken commonly in the Lower East Area; up north it’s different.”

She nodded, picking up her hair brush from the bed. She opened her mouth to speak when someone knocked on the door. 

Mustang’s head popped in. “Your turn, Fullmetal.”

“Thanks,” Ed said, distracted, still thinking about Tobha. He’d read about that place somewhere before...

“Something the matter?”

“Nothing,” the young alchemist replied. He collected his toiletries and stepped out, walking distractedly. 

The earlier twinge of recognition came in full force, now, and an image of scratchy writing on the margin on a book on chemistry and alchemy flashed unbidden in his brain. 

_Tobha — Flame alchemy_

_Elizabeth (d) 1889_

_BERTHOLD_

“Lieutenant,” he said, turning, only to find the door shut and no one in the hallway. He should ask her now, before he forgot. 

Walking closer to his room, he heard the muffled voices of Mustang and Hawkeye.

“—been a while,” Mustang was saying.

“Considering you haven’t practiced in a few years?” Hawkeye. “Not bad.”

“Languages aren’t my strong suit.”

“Evidently.”

The mess hall gossip resounded in Edward’s head when he turned to march to the bathroom. When he returned, Mustang was gone, and Lieutenant Hawkeye was reading a book.

* * *

The next evening brought Edward to a situation he _really_ wanted to avoid.

“Nice night, huh?” Mustang chirped from next to him. Havoc and Hawkeye were approaching the warehouse on foot; they’d found it the previous evening, after parking a little ways from the trees to not alert anyone to their presence as they searched.

“Shut up,” Ed snapped.

His commanding officer shrugged. “Just trying to make conversation.”

“Why are we in here, anyway?” The young alchemist sank down into the seat, folding his arms over his chest. “How is this teaching me subtlety?”

“If all of us go, then that’s four people, two more than necessary to collect information, three more at risk of being found.”

Ed thought about this. “So we wait?”

Mustang nodded.

He let out a big breath. “Surprised you let Hawkeye out there.”

“She’s capable.”

“But you’d rather keep her here.”

Mustang smirked. “Have you taken to the mess hall’s rumor mill?”

“Just an observation.” Ed changed the subject. “I didn’t know you spoke Surian.”

“I don’t, not really,” Mustang said, looking out the window. “I had to learn.” He glanced at Ed. “You’re from Resembool; that’s close to the South Area. Do you know how?”

The blond shook his head. “Left too early to learn. Most people in Resembool speak Isleño, anyway. Eastern dialect. Kind of like Surian, because of the proximity, but not really.”

“Interesting,” Mustang responded, clearly not interested. 

Ed resisted the urge to punch the man. “So why’d you have to learn Surian?”

“You’re chatty today, aren’t you?”

“Just answer the question.”

“The amount of insubordination I let slide from you is alarming,” Mustang muttered. Louder, he said, “I had a mentor, for alchemy. He lived in a town in the South Area, and I stayed with him while under his tutelage.”

Ed nodded, deep in thought. “How long did you stay? You don’t seem to be at elementary learning.”

He missed the smirk the Colonel shot him for his astuteness. “About two years.”

Enough time to be fluent in a language. “Huh.”

“Not everyone can be prodigies, Fullmetal.”

The young alchemist colored. “I didn’t say anything!”

“In any case,” Mustang continued, visibly amused, “I was able to learn a decent amount of Surian during my time there.”

“You learned alchemy under a master?”

“Flame alchemy,” Mustang corrected. “I was a decent alchemist on my own, or so I like to think. But my master and his daughter taught me everything I know about it.”

Before Ed could ask _There’s another flame alchemist_?, Havoc and Hawkeye entered the car and shut the doors.

“Warehouse was empty,” Havoc said, visibly frustrated in the passenger seat. He fumbled for a cigarette and a lighter he managed to pilfer from the inn. “Sorry, chief.”

“Hardly your fault, Havoc,” Mustang responded smoothly. “We have one more night.” He glanced at Ed, who met his eyes with a curious gaze. “Rest up, Fullmetal. It’s your turn tomorrow.”

* * *

This time, Ed and Hawkeye were the ones to enter the warehouse.

“Should we put on a light?” the young alchemist asked, a little more comfortable with speaking at a normal level. Hawkeye had given him the clear, earlier. He hovered by a nearby lightswitch.

“It’s fine.” Hawkeye lowered her gun. “We haven’t opened it the past two nights just in case Havoc and I missed anything.”

Ed nodded and pressed the switch, but as the click resounded in the cavernous warehouse, it still remained pitch black. He blinked and tried again, flipping the switch back and forth. Still nothing.

“Maybe it’s broken,” Hawkeye suggested. 

Ed clapped to transmute the lightswitch, thinking it just needed repair, when he found it was fine. “Wait a second,” he realized, understanding dawning on him. “This isn’t a lightswitch.”

“What do you mean?”

He glanced at the Lieutenant's outline, who had raised her gun in preparation. “I think we need to call the Colonel.”

* * *

“Light a fire, or something,” Ed asked sharply, as soon as Hawkeye dragged him and Havoc into the empty warehouse.

“Aren’t I a damn Colonel in the Amestrian military?” Mustang grumbled to himself. “Why am I being delegated to play _human matchstick_ to my subordinates?”

“Just do it, sir,” Hawkeye said with a roll of her eyes. Mustang scowled and snapped his fingers. 

A ring of fire appeared on the ceiling, briefly setting the room aglow. Sharply, the Colonel scanned the room, maintaining the ring of fire with a second snap. Havoc and Hawkeye, poised with their weapons, glanced around the room, Ed following suit. 

Finding nothing, he cursed. “Dammit. It’s too dark.” He turned to Mustang. “Can’t you turn it up?”

“And burn this _wooden_ warehouse to the ground?”

“You—” The young alchemist stopped, an idea taking over him. “Wait.” He jogged over to the switch. “Okay, Colonel. One more.”

Mustang’s snap resounded, and a furious clicking followed. Ed’s eyes darted around the room as he agitated the switch, finding any sign of anything.

“Wait,” Hawkeye pointed, raising a signalling hand. She jogged over to a wooden panel on the floor and watched intently. “Edward, move the switch.”

A quick click. 

“Found it.”

* * *

“Remind me again why didn’t do anything?” Edward groused, staring at the breakfast sausage as it was being placed in front of him by the innkeeper. He thanked her and looked back at Mustang when the lady was out of earshot. “We _had_ something.”

“Having something isn’t the same as being prepared for it,” Mustang told him, sipping the coffee the innkeeper provided him. “I bet you anything there will be guards there tonight.”

“But we could’ve surprised them!” the blond insisted. 

Mustang sighed, as if dealing with a heavy burden. “In case I need to remind you, this was a _reconnaissance_ mission.” He put down his newspaper and looked pointedly at Edward. “Do you listen, when I talk to you? I’m your superior officer. You should listen to me.”

“I still don’t understand _why_.”

“Listen, Fullmetal,” Mustang said with a sharp stare. “Not everything needs to be acted upon to get what you want. Plan, strategize. Work _smarter_ , not harder.”

Still confused, Ed shot back, “How is ignoring what we found being _smart_?”

The Colonel seemed to be mulling something over, before lacing his fingers and perching his elbows on the table. “I’m telling you this in confidence, Fullmetal.”

Ed stiffened.

“There is a man who I need to help rise through the ranks,” the older alchemist said seriously. “Any accomplishment here needs to be attributed to him, and him alone. It doesn’t make much sense, now, but in time, it will.”

The blond tried to wrack his brain for anyone that came to mind. “Who?”

“I’m not at liberty to say.”

“So you’re basically telling me nothing.”

Colonel Bastard smirked. “In one way, I’m telling you everything.”

Ed ignored his raging urge to strangle the man in front of him. Instead, he huffed. “Fine. But why not you?” 

Mustang smirked. “I like to think of it as an… investment.” He conspiratorially leaned closer. “With interest.”

He glanced at Hawkeye over at the next table for the briefest of moments, and grinned at Fullmetal when he found that the boy had caught him.

Ed rubbed his face in irritation and decided to focus on his food, instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more of me on [my tumblr (@ notkorras)](https://notkorras.tumblr.com)!


	2. a piece of advice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> truly, where would this fic be without [priscilla](https://archiveofourown.org/users/priscilladm/pseuds/priscilladm)? in the trash, that's where. same goes for [vade](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vade_brucestephenbucky/pseuds/vade_brucestephenbucky), who had a hand in the most crucial part of this chapter.
> 
> also, much thanks to [chewy](https://chewytran.tumblr.com). you make the world a better place with your royai art.

Edward Elric was _not_ in a good mood.

It had been three weeks. Three weeks wasted in fucking Madxo following a lead on the Stone that went absolutely nowhere. 

Mustang had tipped them off of suspicious alchemic activity, and Edward should have been grateful that he even _had_ any leads, but the past three missions—Madxo included—just felt like he and Al were being played for fools. By Mustang or someone else, he didn’t know. All he knew was that he was _pissed_.

“ _Kuya_ , seriously, calm down,” Al tried to reason, scurrying after his older brother who marched through Eastern Headquarters. 

“Calm down?” He whirled on Al, glaring at the hulking suit of armor. “ _Calm down?!_ Al, in case you haven’t noticed, this is the third dead end this _year!_ How can you expect me to calm down when—”

“I _know_ , _Kuya_ ,” Al responded softly, his voice echoing hollowly within his body. “I thought maybe…” His armor rustled as he shook his head. “Of course I noticed.”

Guilt washed over Ed like a tidal wave, the silence making him sick to his core. Of _course_ Al would know. Of course Al would know the _most_.

“I’m sorry,” Ed said, voice low and rough and sad. He took in the scuffs of the armor that held his brother’s soul and swallowed. “I’m really sorry, Al. I just—I’m just—” He reached forward to knock his metal hand against his brother’s armor. “I just want… It’s been years. I just want us to be…”

“Edward! Alphonse!”

Ed wiped away his melancholy and turned to the voice. 

A _clink_ of metal resounded as Al looked up. “Master Sergeant Fuery!”

“Welcome back!” Fuery greeted, carrying a large stack of folders as he made his way over. “Did you just arrive?”

“Yeah,” Ed confirmed. He motioned to the folders. “What are those for?”

“Oh, I just came from Records. Picked up some files for a report the team needs to work on,” Fuery said, gesturing for them to follow him to Mustang’s office. 

Al courteously plucked some folders from the Sergeant’s hands, Ed following suit. “Mustang pawning off work again?” the older alchemist muttered.

“No, not exactly. How was your journey West?”

“You heard about that?” Ed grumbled, following Fuery as he led them down the hallway. Al’s armor resounded heavily as he trailed behind.

“Everyone in the team keeps track of each other. The Colonel mentioned earlier that you’d be visiting within the week.” Fuery flashed Ed a sympathetic smile. “I take it that it didn’t go well.”

“We did good work,” Al said, tone optimistic. Then, less optimistically, “Just not the work we were hoping to do.”

Ed scratched his blond head with irritation as they rounded a corner. “I don’t know if I should be grateful or annoyed at Mustang. He sent me there on a lead and I ended up busting a drug ring.”

“That’s good!” Fuery decided to cut himself off, because the look on Ed’s face was Not Good. “I’m sure something’ll turn up.” 

When they arrived at the office, everyone was huddled over their desks, furiously scribbling away.

“Fuery’s back,” Breda called to the rest of the room as he jotted something down, then looked up. “Oh, and so are the Elric brothers! Hey, boys!”

Al waved in greeting as he handed Fuery the largest of the three stacks, while Ed scoped the room. Hawkeye was at her desk; the Master Sergeant fluttered about the space as he handed her a single folder, then two to Breda. 

The blond alchemist scowled once he realized that there was a missing officer. A rather important, _annoying_ missing officer. “Where’s Mustang? Left you all to work again while he went on a date or something?”

Havoc snorted, taking a few folders from the stack Fuery handed to him. “Or something. If he went on a date, we wouldn’t be working.”

“You’d be working _regardless_ ,” Hawkeye said sharply. Her face turned soft at the Elrics. “Welcome back, Edward, Alphonse.”

“Hi,” Falman greeted cheerfully, then his face morphed into a glare once Fuery dumped the remaining stack on his desk. He’d received the thickest pile of folders. “Are you kidding me?”

“He’s in a meeting,” the Master Sergeant told Ed as he scurried off to his own desk, avoiding Falman’s pointy glare. “There’s a visiting attaché for a training exercise and he’s part of the training committee.”

“Attaché for what?” Al asked.

Ed was dumbfounded. “ _Training_ committee? For what?”

“Every year, Briggs and Eastern have an annual training exercise,” Hawkeye explained. “The Colonel joined the organizing committee.”

“ _Mustang_? Are they _sure_?” Ed looked downright scandalized. “And he’s _organizing_ it?”

Al ignored his brother. “Every year? That’s impressive!”

“They always kick our asses, though,” Havoc sighed, tipping his chair back and evidently already sufficiently distracted. “Most of these meetings only involve the big guys, ranking Colonel and up. Technically they aren’t necessary, but higher-ups insist on doing it anyway. I guess it’s the formality of it.”

Ed eyed Hawkeye, nodding. He tried not to think how weird it was that she and Mustang had been pried apart due to a difference in rank. Maybe it was a one time thing. “Huh.”

“Oh, which reminds me!” The front legs of Havoc’s chair smacked against the floor when he pulled forward. “Speaking of formalities, have you signed up to get your weapons clearance yet?”

The blond alchemist’s eyes whipped to Havoc’s. “My what?”

“Weapons clearance. All military personnel have to get cleared.” Havoc adopted a thoughtful expression. “I could’ve sworn Mustang told you that last time you were here, deadline’s soon...”

Ed tried not to flush when he heard the _chink_ of Al’s armor. He _knew_ his younger brother was looking at him with displeasure; he’d gotten a few earfuls recently about how he was being a jerk when Mustang was only trying to help. 

The Colonel probably did, but Ed hated listening to his smug voice while looking at his smug face when he laced his smug fingers together looking all smug. He suppressed the urge to scowl and picked a safe, topic-adjacent response. “Isn’t that what the State Alchemist exam is for?”

“No, that’s different; this one’s for _everyone_ ,” Havoc clarified.

Breda jumped in. “Think of it like a failsafe if you can’t use your alchemy in the field. Battlefields don’t exactly have optimal space for transmutation circles.”

“But I don’t use circles,” Ed said, brow creased in confusion. He wiggled his hands in the air. “I just clap.”

“Do we look like HR to you?” Havoc grumbled, shaking his head. “We don’t make the rules. Honestly, it would be easier for you to just go through with it.” He mimed a gun with his hand. “Shoot a gun, hit a target, and _bam_ , you’re cleared.”

Breda nodded. “It’ll be easier not to fight it.”

Ed scratched his jaw. “I dunno. I’ve never really… I’d rather stick to alchemy. Besides, I’m not a gun person. Never tried.”

“I’ll teach you,” Hawkeye said, her chair scraping over the wooden floor as she pushed it back. “I’ve finished my segment of the report, anyway.” 

Ed flushed, a shyness overcoming him. “Are you sure, Lieutenant? I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

She stood and smiled. “I’m sure.”

“You’re in great hands, Edward,” Breda encouraged. “She’s not the military’s top sniper for nothing!”

“Ooh,” Havoc hooted, “I can’t wait to watch Ed get—”

“You will do no such thing,” Hawkeye snapped, glaring at the officers. Havoc clamped his mouth shut and, like everyone else in the room, clambered back to his task. Quickly arranging the papers on her desk, she pushed her chair back and walked to the brothers. “You will stay here, and _work_ , understood?”

Faces paled all over the room, not daring to move as she made her way to the door.

“I will be back in an _hour_ ,” she warned. “I expect at least an inch-thick stack of paper on my desk, is that clear?”

The men bolted to stand and saluted. “Yes, Lieutenant!”

“ _Wow_ ,” Ed marveled.

“That was amazing!” Al gushed. “They don’t even listen to the Colonel like that!”

Hawkeye smiled dryly at them. “Come on, let’s head to the shooting range.” She turned back sharply at the men, who were all still standing and saluting. “ _One_ hour.”

The door closed behind the three of them, and a solid minute passed before the officers loosened in relief.

Fuery shuddered. “She’s so scary.” 

“I hear that,” Breda grunted, sitting. “She’s great, but terrifying.”

“Was it a good idea for _Hawkeye_ to teach Ed how to shoot?” Falman thought aloud.

They collectively thought about the last time Edward Elric was in their office. And then, the thought of Edward Elric, with a gun, in their office.

Havoc frantically waved the thought away. “Mustang’ll be fine. I think.” He paused. “I hope.”

* * *

The shooting range was abuzz with activity, almost every firing lane taken except for one. Ed and Al waited by a table watching soldiers practice, gunshots ringing in the air. Hawkeye motioned for the boys to stay by a table while she made a quick trek to the range master’s counter.

“Okay,” she said when she got back. She raised the firearm she held in her hands. “This is what you’ll be using.

“This is the Mosin-Nagant,” Hawkeye explained, brandishing the shotgun she held. “Technically called the three-line rifle M1891. It's the standard issue rifle, and what most MP’s use in the field. This is the shotgun you’re most likely to use and is the minimum requirement for weapons clearance. This isn’t loaded, so I’ll run you through how it works. Excuse me, Alphonse.”

Al stepped back to give her more space and she started her demonstration. Ed watched intently, nodding as she went, gun handling jargon floating around in his head. She drifted from standing position to where the butt of the gun should go, how to hold it, where to hold it. His left hand started getting clammy; he rubbed his gloved palm against his thigh. _This is fine._ _This is fine. You can trust Lieutenant Hawkeye. You’re fine._

Hawkeye finished her demo and finally handed him the gun. “Clear, so far?”

He tentatively took the gun from her. “Uh, I think so.”

“Okay. Just ask questions if you’re confused. Get into position,” she instructed.

“Which side?”

“Any side you’re comfortable.”

Ed put his right foot back and placed the gun in position. 

“You want to catch the stock on your shoulder,” she advised, helping him adjust. “There. Now bring it to your cheek.” When he raised it, she corrected him. “Press it to your cheek, if you can.”

“Um,” Ed said, swallowing. “Like this?”

“Yes, that’s good.” She looked behind her, and Ed eyed his brother’s hulking, metallic frame. “Look down the barrel and show me how you aim.”

Ed raised the gun up and Alphonse panicked, flailing. “ _Kuya_!”

“It’s not loaded!” Ed defended.

The Lieutenant pressed down the barrel with one hand. She sighed at Ed. “First rule of shooting guns, Edward: _Don’t_ point it at anyone you don’t plan on shooting, loaded or not.”

The blond alchemist looked sheepish. “Sorry. I couldn’t think of anything else to target.”

“ _There is a tree right here!_ ” Al yelled back, angrily gesturing at the tree behind them.

Hawkeye smiled at Ed. “Try again.”

Ed nodded and adjusted his gaze, aiming for the tree once Alphonse stepped back. He raised the gun again, close to his cheek, and closed one eye.

“ _Ah_ ,” Hawkeye warned, placing one hand on the barrel again. “Don’t aim with one eye.”

Ed blinked. “Huh?”

“Don’t aim with one eye,” she repeated. “Your field of vision reduces by half. Try with both eyes.”

He brought the gun up again and reflexively closed one eye. He shut his eyes and shook his head, lowering the gun. “Damn it.”

“It’s fine. Have you tried handling a gun?” Hawkeye asked.

“Not a… Well, I’ve never used a _shotgun_ , but—shooting stuff, rubber bands, whatever. I always use one eye.” Ed ran a hand through his hair. “It’s kind of a reflex.”

“I see.” She nodded in understanding. “It’s hard to stop once you get used to it, but I assure you, aiming with both eyes open is infinitely better.” She seemed to mull something over. “I can share with you something someone told me when I was younger. They said it helped them learn to aim with both eyes open.”

Edward flashed her a tepid smile. “I could use any help I can get.”

She leaned in, as if telling him a secret. “He said, ‘ _one eye closed, bull’s eye’s open; two eyes open, bull’s eye’s closed_.’”

“That’s… What?”

“Keep one eye open and your bull’s eye won’t be hit for sure,” she explained. “But keep both eyes open and your bull’s eye’s sure as hit.”

Ed stared at her. “No, I got that, just… Did a ten-year-old say that?”

Hawkeye chuckled. “Hush, Edward. That’s only two years younger than you are.” 

He flushed. “Right.”

“You taught people before, Lieutenant?” Alphonse asked.

She shook her head. “Just a few. I’m not a trainer, but I knew someone in my youth who really wanted to join the military, so he said he practiced early.”

“Huh,” Ed said. “That’s interesting. Was he from Tobha, too?”

“No, he wasn’t. He stayed with us for a little bit, though, maybe close to two years.”

“You’re from Tobha?” Al asked, surprised. 

“Yes, I am.” She smiled up at Alphonse. “It’s not too far from Resembool.”

“It isn’t! Wow, that’s so interesting, Lieutenant,” Al gushed. “It’s nice to know stories about how you all were before joining the military. The other officers, too.”

She chuckled lightly. “I don’t think I’m all that interesting, Alphonse.”

“Still! I imagine the Colonel had an interesting life in Central before moving East, too.”

“No,” Ed muttered, staring intently at the corner of the table. “The Colonel spent a good time learning alchemy in the South before enlisting in the military.”

“Oh? He told you?” There was something in the Lieutenant’s tone that sounded off, but he paid it no mind.

“Yeah.” Ed rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “He said he learned flame alchemy from a master. Which reminds me.” He looked up at his brother. “I need to visit the National Central Library.”

“For what?”

“I need to look something up,” Ed mumbled, distracted for a moment, then shook his head. “Anyway, sorry. Getting off-track. You were saying, Lieutenant?”

Hawkeye blinked away her thoughtful expression. “Nothing. Ready to shoot?” 

Ed nodded. “Yeah, let’s do it.”

The Lieutenant took the gun from him as they walked over to the only available lane, gesturing for Alphonse to stay behind by the table; he was too big and the range was a little crowded. She expertly loaded the Mosin and handed it to him.

“Let’s work on aiming on a target,” she suggested. “Safety’s still on. Get into position.”

Edward took the gun with great care and followed her earlier instruction on how to stand, staring down the barrel into the front sight. 

“I know the reflex is to use the bead, but I personally don’t,” she told him. “Make sure your target is down the barrel of the gun, so the alignment is more proper.”

“Right.”

“You see it?”

The center of the target hovered around and about the barrel of his gun. “Yeah.”

“Okay, good. Hold on, I’ll turn off the safety. Here, I’ll show you.” She gently took the gun and taught him how to click off the safety so he could shoot. “There. Go try. The shotgun will recoil and hit your shoulder, so it’s fine to just catch it.”

He swallowed and tried not to shake as he took the shotgun. _For practice_ , he repeated to himself. If he was being honest, he really would rather not do this. But if he wanted to keep the State’s resources at his disposal, this was just one more bone a dog had to fetch.

He raised the gun and pressed the stock to his cheek, his finger gingerly curling around the trigger.

“Relax, Edward,” Hawkeye soothed. “Just focus on hitting your target.”

“It’s far,” he murmured.

“You’ll be fine.”

He licked his bottom lip and focused on the board that stood at the end of his lane, approximately half a kilometer away. He stared down at the silhouette, ignoring the urge to close one eye.

 _One eye closed, bull’s eye’s open; two eyes open, bull’s eye’s closed_.

He pressed down, and the butt of the shotgun jerked into his shoulder as a shot resounded through the range. He grit his teeth at the vibration that ran through his metal arm like the sound of a rippling bell, the sensation overwhelming and unpleasant.

“Lieutenant,” he gasped, and seemingly faster than he could blink, Hawkeye took the rifle, disarmed it, and set it aside. Ed’s arm continued to vibrate and he was at a loss on how to counter it, so he fought through his sudden dizziness and jogged hurriedly to his brother. He nearly lost his footing, the world spinning around him, and he heard the tell-tale creak of armor when his fall was cut off.

“What happened, _kuya_?” Al asked, concerned, setting him upright.

“I’m so sorry, Edward,” the Lieutenant apologized, gently laying the gun on the table. “I completely forgot—”

“It’s okay.” Edward winced, breathing heavy. “I didn’t—It’s okay, it was an accident.”

“What happened?” Al asked.

“The recoil of the shotgun,” Ed bit out, discomfort over taking him. “It—It hit my automail weird. Made it vibrate.” He squeezed his eyes shut, the vibration seemingly traveling up his arm and into his head, creating a sharp, growing ache. “Sorry, Lieutenant. I—I think I’ll—My head really hurts.”

“That’s fine. I’ll fix up here. Do you mind taking him, Alphonse?”

“Wait!” Ed grasped his brother’s metal forearm for balance, his eyes shut to block out the light of the mid-afternoon. “When’s the test?”

He heard some shuffling, then he was lifted into the air, a metal breastplate pressed against his side. 

“In two weeks. Can you come back in two days? Clearance is next week, and I need to sign Ed up for a schedule.”

Al’s armor _chink_ ’d, a sign of affirmation. “I’ll see how Brother feels and ask him tomorrow.”

“Sorry, Lieutenant,” Ed said, his speech getting a little slurred. He brought his right arm over his eyes. “I tried.”

“You did,” she responded, voice soft and kind. “We’ll work on using your other arm next time. Go rest, for now. I’ll see you soon.”

* * *

“Fullmetal!”

Compared to last week, the range was uncrowded and quiet, so the sudden call of his title surprised him. Ed yelped as he jerked his cheek away from the stock of the shotgun. “Dammit!”

“Oy!” Havoc admonished, cigarette moving at the corner of his mouth as he stood to salute the newly arrived officer. “Watch it! Guns are dangerous, you know!”

 _Yes, they are_ , his brain drawled, and the blond alchemist fought to keep away his grin at the prospect of holding a loaded shotgun at a certain approaching, pain-in-the-ass Colonel. 

“Hi, Colonel,” Ed greeted, eyes on the gun as he clicked on the safety— _pull back the cocking piece, then turn it to the left,_ he repeated silently—making sure to avoid any and all mistakes.

He didn’t have to look to know that Mustang swaggered annoyingly up to him. “Practicing for weapons clearance, I see.”

He yanked on the bolt to be sure, and nodded when it refused to move. He set down the shotgun and finally turned to Mustang. “Yeah, I—” Ed’s jaw dropped. 

Mustang paused at the look on the blond’s face, and he turned to look behind him. When he saw nothing, he looked back at Ed. “What’s wrong?” 

“What happened to _you_?”

Mustang’s hand raced up to pat his face. “Why? What happened? Is there something on my face?”

Ed gestured vaguely to the top of his own head, brow creased in apparent disgust. “You… Your _hair_. What’s wrong with it? Why is it...” He swept his hand back. 

Mustang scowled and put down his arm. “I had a meeting.”

The blond narrowed his eyes. “But why does it look like _that_? Your head looks like it's being sucked backwards.”

“ _We’re moving on_ ,” the Colonel snapped. He then took a deep, deep breath, before continuing, “Where’s Alphonse?”

“Library,” Ed said, rubbing his nose. “Researching.”

Mustang turned to Havoc. “How’s he doing?”

Havoc shrugged. “The Lieutenant trained him well.”

The Colonel looked so smug it was almost like he was proud. “She did, did she?” He turned back to the younger alchemist. “How did you find it?”

After giving it some thought, Ed finally spoke, “She taught me very well. She’s a really good teacher.” 

Mustang nodded lightly. “Wouldn’t expect any less.”

“Colonel!” someone yelled, and a stern-looking Hawkeye marched into the gun range. “We need to go.” Her eyes landed on Ed and she flashed him a smile. “Hello, Edward. How’s practice?”

He flushed at the sudden show of softness and stared at his feet. “Much better, Lieutenant. Thank you for all your help.”

“ _Catalina_!” Havoc blurted, catching a head of curly hair at the edge of his vision. She waved brightly and motioned for him to wait, then pointed in the direction of the lockers. _I’ll get my gun_ , she mouthed, then disappeared.

“Permission to follow her, Colonel,” Havoc requested.

Before Mustang could answer, Hawkeye snapped at him. “ _No_. You’re supposed to be watching Ed while he practices.”

Havoc went limp and desolate. “ _Please_ ,” he begged, eyes getting wide and watery. “I’m so _lonely_.”

“Didn’t need to know,” Mustang mumbled, then louder, “I have something to say to Fullmetal, Lieutenant. I’ll join you in a bit.”

His adjutant didn’t look appeased, but she sighed all the same. “ _Two_ minutes.” She walked over and disappeared into the locker area. Havoc looked over longingly, very much like a dog who was desperate for a treat.

Mustang sighed. “Fine. Distract Hawkeye to make it three minutes.”

Havoc gave the straightest salute he had ever mustered and bounded over to the gun lockers.

Mustang made sure Havoc was out of earshot before leaning in. “I’m gonna give you some shooting advice, and I’ve only ever told it to one person so if it gets out I’ll _know_ it was you.”

“I’m pretty sure Hawkeye’s given me lots of advice. She’s a better shot than you, I heard.”

Mustang's eyebrow twitched. “Do you want the advice or not?”

Ed met the Colonel’s narrowed eyes and scoffed. “Fine. Lay it on me.”

“When I was younger, I always wanted to get into the military,” Mustang explained. “I practiced almost everything when I was a teenager—shooting, aiming—”

“When are you gonna get to the point?” Ed said with a blank, bored look on his face.

The Colonel sighed, irritated. “Why do I put up with this insubordination?” he mumbled to himself. “Is this even worth it?”

“Just _tell me_ ,” the younger alchemist groused, ignoring the man’s crazy mumbling. “You’re not getting any younger.”

Colonel Bastard seemed like he had to mentally restrain himself before taking a deep breath and exhaling. “Fine. I used to tell this to myself a lot whenever I lined up to shoot: _One eye closed, bull’s eye’s open; two eyes open, bull’s eye’s closed_.”

Alarm rang in Ed’s head; the image of Hawkeye telling him that exact same phrase only a week ago sharply appearing in his mind’s eye. “ _What?_ ”

Mustang pointed out into the shooting lane, eyes firmly on the target. He missed the complete shock on Ed’s face. “It means keep—”

“I know what it means,” Ed said quickly, then regretted it as soon as Mustang turned back to him, eyebrow raised.

“How’d you know?”

Ed stammered, “W-Well—It’s—It’s obvious! You know. A-and dumb; anyone could understand what it means.” He cursed himself for his blabbering. _That was pathetic_ , he thought miserably.

Before he could say anything else, a sharp “ _Sir!_ ” resounded, from a Lieutenant who was very much not being distracted. Then, “Havoc, stop flirting and _get back to work_!”

If Mustang saw through Ed’s bullshit excuse, he clearly didn’t have time to call the blond out on it. “Good luck on your clearance” was all the Colonel said with a wave of his hand, then that hand went to scratch the back of his head as Hawkeye berated him on their way back to the main building.

Ed stared after them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more of me and my work on [my tumblr (@notkorras)](https://notkorras.tumblr.com).


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